The Doctor's Fake Nanny: Contemporary BWWM Romance Read online

  The Doctor's Fake Nanny

  Published By Tiana Cole, 2016

  © 2016 Tiana Cole

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Escort by Mistake

  About The Author

  Also from Tiana Cole:

  Chapter One

  Kayla

  “It’s fine. I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal about this.”

  “I don’t know, it just feels strange.”

  “It feels strange? What does that mean?”

  “It just feels, well, it feels wrong. It isn’t you, Kayla. I’ve never known you to do a deceitful thing, not once since the first time I met you.

  That’s not what we’re about, girl. What about all of those talks we’ve had about doing good things? That’s why we work with kids, for Christ’s sake. How are you going to tell me that you spend your days teaching children what it means to do right and what it means to do wrong and then you’re going to do something like this?”

  “I know.”

  “It just doesn’t seem right, that’s all. It just doesn’t seem right.”

  “I know. It’s complicated, alright?”

  The problem was that she was right. She was right and we both knew it. I’ve never been the sort of person to be deceitful, to seek revenge.

  I’ve never really wanted anything more than to make a difference. Yvonne was right about that much. That’s why I started working with kids. That’s why I loved working with the kindergarteners.They were so strange and funny and hopeful. You couldn’t fake things like that and they didn’t last for all that long.

  I’ve spent a lot of time trying to foster that kind of thing in people, not bring them down. The thing is, not everything is as easy as the right and wrong as seen through a five year old’s eyes.

  Things change. When you lose something, when you lose the thing that matters more to you than anything in the world, things change. Suddenly it wasn’t so black and white anymore.

  “Kayla?”

  “Yep, I’m here. You still going to be there for me if I do this? Even if you don’t like it?”

  “Girl, you know I will. Always, through thick and thin, right?”

  God, I’m lucky to have a friend like Yvonne. She’s never lied to me and she wasn’t lying to me then. She was with me through the whole thing, even when she hated it. Which was a lot. I doubt that plots like mine often worked out quite as planned. I knew mine didn’t. For starters, I had no idea how much of my life it would take up. It all started with an interview. Something as simple and mundane as that.

  “Hello?”

  No answer. Go figure. That was so like a rich person, to assume that they were important enough to blow a person off even after agreeing on an appointment.

  No, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t all rich people, it was this rich person. Couldn’t blame everyone for the sins of one bad apple. And there was always the possibility that he didn’t hear me. I guess there was always that, although I was leaning more towards the “he’s an asshole” line of thought. That seemed to fit a little better to me.

  I rang the bell again, insistently, three times in rapid succession. It was terribly rude, which wasn’t like me at all, but I was feeling especially impatient. I had a reason to be. I had waited long enough.

  I thought about my sister, Nikki, while standing there on this guy’s doorstep, being ignored. It amazed me how a memory could be just as jarring as a ghost.Out of nowhere she would just pop in my head and everything I was doing would feel fake, like the pretense of a life that didn’t really exist.

  She had died three months ago and sometimes I still picked up my phone to call her. It wouldn’t be till halfway through dialing that I would remember she wasn’t going to answer.

  Three months and I would still think I saw her almost every day. You try and wrap your head around the idea that your little sister isn’t ever coming back, that you won’t get to throw her a bachelorette party or hold her first kid. Three months of that and I had finally decided to pull myself out of my ghost town and go to this interview, and he couldn’t be bothered to come to the door. So yes, I was a little impatient.

  “Fuck this,” I muttered under my breath. If he wasn’t going to be polite, then what the hell? Maybe I wouldn’t be either. I rang the bell once more for good measure and then tried the door.

  I was more than a little bit surprised, but it opened easily.Sure, leave your door open when you live in a million-dollar house. That sounded like a good idea. But open was open and so I let myself in quietly, looking around in awe that I didn’t want to feel but couldn’t help.

  I had to admit, this place was nice. Super nice. I had never been in a place even close to this upscale before and it was a little bit difficult not to be intimidated. There was the mess, though.The mess helped. Yes, there was light marble and deep dark wood everywhere, tall ceilings and impossibly long banisters, but there was also stuff everywhere.

  I mean everywhere. It looked like a little girl’s closet threw up all over this house fancy enough to be in a magazine. I was beginning to see why he needed a nanny, that was for sure.

  Clearly doctors didn’t have enough time to pick up after their kids, and if there was a maid, she wasn’t getting the job done. But where was she?

  From the looks of the way things were strewn around the home this was the wake of a little girl still very much in the middle of a tear so I was pretty sure she had to be somewhere nearby. Which would mean that her father was home too, unless he was the worst father in the entire world.

  That was something I was entirely ready to believe.

  “Hello?”

  I whispered it this time, suddenly very aware of the fact that I was standing in the foyer of another person’s home without ever having been invited in. That was pretty much a criminal act, so yelling out probably wasn’t the best plan.

  Shit.Maybe Yvonne was right. Maybe I hadn’t thought this thing through quite as well as I should have. I didn’t have a whole lot more time to think it over though, because that’s when I heard a little girl’s sweet little scream.

  “It hurts! Daddy, Daddy, where’d you go to? It hurts and I need you to fix it!”

  That would be the proud owner of the multitude of dolls all over the floor, the little ruby red slippers tossed casually by the grand front stairway. Cute. I had always been a huge fan of The Wizard of Oz and from the looks of it this little girl was, too. That was
a good sign.

  Kids could be kind of harsh sometimes and having some good common ground could make things easier. They had very particular taste, kids. It was one of the things I really enjoyed about them.

  I heard the light pounding of little feet announcing the arrival of the little princess in question and looked up to watch. It was worth it.

  I had to put a hand up to my mouth to keep her from seeing my laugh. You wouldn’t like it if someone just started laughing at you, right? Well neither did children. They liked to be taken seriously just as much as the last person, and making her think I didn’t wouldn’t make the best first impression.

  “Who are you? Do you belong in here?”

  Now I couldn’t help it, I laughed. But just a little, and she didn’t seem to mind all that much. Truthfully, she seemed to like the attention. It wouldn’t surprise me if her dad didn’t give her much. Whether that was true or not, it was a good question. It was the perfect question, really.

  “Do I belong here? Well, no, I guess not. I’m not totally sure. I have an interview with your dad but he didn’t answer the door. I sort of came in to see what was up.”

  “What’s up is my finger.”

  She held it up with fat little tears rolling down her cheeks and one hand on her little hip. It made quite the impression. Messy blonde hair up in a high ponytail, plastic jeweled crown sitting lopsided on her head, and to top it all off, a bright pink tutu over a superman tee shirt much too long for her. I might have loved her right then and there. Such a precocious little thing, I could tell already.

  “Aw, what’s wrong with it, sugar? Can I see?”

  Yes, as it turned out, I could. She was ready and willing to accept sympathy and I was more than happy to give it. I was familiar with the wounds of children. Small wounds with mighty importance. She ran straight for me and I knelt down on the ground to meet her.

  I’ve always felt like it was best to get down on a child’s level when you spoke to them, so they know you think of them as your equal. She met me that way and promptly settled herself on my knee, holding the offending finger up for me to get a better look. It was maybe a little bit red, but there was certainly no blood. It didn’t matter. I was pretty sure I could take care of it anyway.

  “Look at it! My trike tricked me and I fell right on it. Think it’s broke?”

  How like a doctor’s kid to ask a question like that. She looked very serious, however, and so I treated the finger with all of the serious attention of an impending operation. Her tears had already begun to dry up and she seemed much more curious about me than she seemed worried about the injury.

  “No, I definitely don’t think it’s broken, sweetie, but I do have something I think would help. I think it would make everything better, actually. Do you want to see it?”

  “Yes!”

  No hesitation, just immediate demand for the cure. I laughed and dug through the purse hanging off of my shoulder. Being a kindergarten teacher was a major advantage in situations like this because I was always prepared. I finally found what I was looking for, a Disney Band-Aid that I held up reverently for her inspection.

  “What do you think? Should we do it?”

  “Yup, those stickies always make things better.”

  “They really do seem to. Alright, let me see that finger. How old are you anyway, little lady? Might as well get to know you a little better, since you’re getting my favorite Band-Aid.”

  “Me? I’m this many.”

  She held up four chubby little fingers with a pride that made me want to laugh all over again. She was clearly proud of how worldly she was at four years old. I could see it in her big blue eyes. Man, she really was pretty adorable.

  “And how many is that?”

  “Four! You can count them! I’m Sophie, too. That’s what my daddy named me.”

  “That’s a really beautiful name. My name is Kayla. I’m pretty sure my daddy picked my name, too. I think I might like yours better, though.”

  She grinned, pleased as punch by the compliment. Her injured finger seemed to have been completely forgotten and she raised one chubby hand to touch my cheek.”

  “It’s soft,” she whispered, running her fingers up and down the side of my face, “but it looks different than me. How come we aren’t the same color?”

  “Sophie!”

  Oh god, I almost had a heart attack at that sound. I had come here for a reason but when Sophie had come scurrying into the foyer I had almost forgotten what that reason was. I had gone into kid mode and, for a moment, I was able to just enjoy how simple and beautiful it was to be that young and innocent. That loud, commanding voice brought me back to reality with a force just as jarring as if I had been slapped straight across the face.

  The reality was that I had basically broken into this unbelievably fancy house and had a little girl who did not belong to me sitting in my lap. Crap, this didn’t look good. This was probably a really good way to get arrested. I looked up hesitantly to see who the voice was coming from.

  “Sophie, we don’t ask questions like that. It isn’t polite.”

  It was the man I had come to see. Dr. David Wyatt. I had seen him before, several times in fact, but I still couldn’t help but marvel over how young he was.

  How could a guy who looked like he had to be around thirty years old be one of the most renowned cardiologists in the city? To top it all off, he was impossibly handsome. He made me feel frumpy and awkward just by being in the same room.

  He had dark hair, thick and curly, and the same striking blue eyes as his little girl. He was tall and lean, a man with the easy muscle tone of a born athlete. He was pretty much too good-looking to live and I rolled my eyes at how nervous that made me. I had to get a grip if I was going to have a shot in hell of pulling this thing off.

  Even while I was trying desperately to get my shit together I noticed that he was on a phone call even as he descended the stairs. He was speaking to the person on the other line, and he did not sound happy. It sounded like he was in the middle of an argument that had been going on for quite some time. I didn’t really know how I was supposed to handle him, and so I turned back to the chubby little girl in my lap.

  “But I just wanted to know. I like it. It looks like the candies I like.”

  “It’s okay, sweetie. It doesn’t bother me at all. That’s kind of how I think of my skin, too. It’s a little bit like milk chocolate, right?”

  “Right! Like my candies!”

  “Sophie, that’s enough. Come here, please.”

  Sophie didn’t move. She leaned her warm body closer into me and looked at Dr. Wyatt with a cranky, sullen expression. It was obvious to all of us that she had no desire to go to him.

  “Sophie. Now.”

  She went, but hesitantly. She didn’t seem to have any of the excitement I would have expected a little girl to have for her father. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if she liked him. She definitely looked a little bit wary. I just couldn’t be sure why.

  Now that I no longer had a little girl to tend to there wasn’t much of a reason for me to be on the ground and I rose quickly, trying to preserve whatever dignity I could. It looked like the good doctor was still on the phone, giving me a scrutinizing look as he spoke, but he hadn’t asked me to leave yet. What did that mean?

  I didn’t know what to do with myself so I did what I always did when I was nervous. I cleaned. And believe me, there was plenty of that to do.

  It wasn’t just the explosion of Sophie’s belongings, either. There was paperwork everywhere, and even a few discarded to go containers as well. I wondered to myself when the last time someone had dusted this place and if this mess continued throughout the entire house. If so, cleaning this place could take a long, long time.

  “I don’t care what you think, it’s not going to happen. If you want to get a lawyer, get a lawyer. Nothing is going to change. Now if that’s all, I’ve got more important things to do.”

  He hung up the phone with a level
of agitation that I could physically feel permeating the room and I glanced quickly in his direction before continuing my quest for cleanliness.

  “I apologize for my daughter. She hasn’t learned yet that some questions are not appropriate to ask.”

  “It’s really okay. She’s right, my skin does look different than hers. It’s only natural that she would want to know why.”

  Dr. Wyatt looked both uncomfortable by my mentioning the obvious fact that I was black while the two of them were white and slightly annoyed at my contradicting him. I had a feeling he wasn’t all that used to being disagreed with. About anything.

  “Well, I’m glad she hasn’t offended you. That being said, may I ask what you are doing in my home?”

  Now it was my turn to be uncomfortable. Just why exactly had I decided to walk right into this home like I owned it? If I wanted to get the job this might not be the best way to go about it.